You that now view our fatal End, Warn'd by our Case your Carriage mend; Soon or late grim Death will come, Who'd not prepare for a certain Doom: Span long Life with lifeless Joys, What's in this World but care and noise. Youth, tho' most blest by being so, As vast thy Joy, as great thy Woe; Ev'ry Sin that gives Delight, Will in the end the Soul affright: 'Tis not thy Youth, thy Wealth nor Strength, Can add to Life one Moments length. God is as Merciful as Just, Cleanse our Hearts, since die we must: Sweet Temptations of worldly Joys, Makes for our Grief, and our Peace destroys, Think then when Man his Race has run, Death is the Prize which he has won. Sure there's none so absurd and odd, To think with the Fool there is no God; What is't we fear when Death we meet, Where't not t' account at the Judgment-Seat: That Providence we find each Hour, Proves a supernatural Power; In Mercy open thy bright Abode, Receive our Souls tremendous God. _The_ British ACCOUNTANT. [Music] You Ladies draw near, I can tell you good News, If you please to give Ear, or else you may Choose; Of a _British Accountant_ that's Frolick and free, Who does wondrous Feats by the Rule of Three. _Addition_, _Division_, and other such Rules, I'll leave to be us'd by your Scribling Fools; This Art is Improv'd unto such a Degree, That he manages all by the Rule of Three. You Dames that are Wed who can make it appear, That you lose an Estate for want of an Heir: This _Accountant_ will come without e'er a Fee, And warrants a Boy by his Rule of Three. Is the Widdow distress'd for the loss of her Spouse, Tho' to have him again she cares not a Louse; Her Wants he supplys whatsoever they be, And all by his Art in the Rule of Three. Do you Dream in the Night and fret at your Fate, For want of the Man when you happen to wake; You may presently send and satisfy'd be, That he Pacifies all by the Rule of Three. You Ladies who are with a Husband unblest, And are minded to make him a delicate Beast; He'll fix the Brow-antlers just where they should be, And all by his Art in the Rule of Three. You Lasses at large of the true Female Race, Who are glad of the Men who will lye on their Face; Do but try the bold _Britton_, you all will agree, That you never did know such a Rule of Three. _A_ SONG. _Set by Mr._ FRANK. The Night is come that will allow, No longer any Coyness now, But every freedom must to Love be given; What tho' the Shadows of the Night, Withdraw her Beauty from his sight, The Youth another way, another way, Another way will find his Heav'n. See, see the charming Nymph is lay'd, Never again to rise a Maid, The vigorous Bridegroom now impatient grown; Thrown himself by her side, With eager Joy, and amourous Pride, Ready to seize the Prey that's now his own.